Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Poetry that sings from Minnesota’s poet laureate May 2, 2024

Book cover sourced online. Cover watercolor painting, “The Musician,” is by Cherokee artist Roy Boney, Jr.

HER POEMS SING with the rhythm of a writer closely connected to land, heritage and history. She is Gwen Nell Westerman of Mankato, Minnesota poet laureate and author of Songs, Blood Deep, published by Duluth-based Holy Cow! Press.

Of Dakota and Cherokee heritage, Westerman honors her roots with poems that reflect a deep cultural appreciation for the natural world. The water. The sky. The seasons. The earth. The birds and animals. They are all there in her writing, in language that is down-to-earth descriptive. Readers can hear the birdsong, feel the breeze, see the morning light… That she pens nature poems mostly about the land of my heart—fields and prairie—endears me even more to her poetry.

This slim volume of collected poems is divided into seasons of the year, each chapter title written in the Dakota language. The book features multiple languages—Dakota, Cherokee, Spanish and English. That adds to its depth, showing that, no matter the language we speak, write or read, we are valued.

This silo mural in downtown Mankato celebrates the cultural diversity of the region, including the Dakota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

Westerman clearly values her Native heritage, how lessons and stories have been passed to her through generations of women, especially. Songs, blood deep. In her poem “First Song,” she shares a lesson her grandmother taught her about the importance of sharing. After reading that thought-provoking poem, I considered how much better this world would be if we all focused on the singular act of sharing.

The Dakota 38 Memorial at Reconciliation Park in downtown Mankato lists the names of the 38 Dakota men hung at this site on December 26, 1862. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

This poet, who is also a gifted textile artist (creator of quilts), wraps us in her words. In the season of waniyetu, her poetry turns more reflective and introspective, as one would expect in winter. She writes of family, injustices and more. “Song for the Generations: December 26” is particularly moving as that date in history references the mass execution of 38 Dakota sentenced to death in 1862 and hung in Mankato. Westerman writes of rising and remembering, of singing and prayer. It’s a truly honorable poem that sings of sorrow and strength.

Her poems remind us that this land of which she writes was home first to Indigenous Peoples. Westerman writes of a state park in New Ulm, the sacred Jeffers Petroglyphs and Fort Snelling, where Dakota were imprisoned after the U.S.-Dakota War of 1862 and before their exile from Minnesota. The name of our state traces to Mni Sota Makoce, Dakota for “the land where the water reflects the sky.” It’s included in Westerman’s poetry.

I appreciate poems that counter the one-sided history I was taught. I appreciate Westerman’s style of writing that is gentle, yet strong, in spirit. Truthful in a way that feels forgiving and healing.

In the all of these poems, I read refrains of gratitude for the natural world, gratitude for heritage and gratitude for this place we share. We sang. We sing. Songs, blood deep.

FYI: Songs, Blood Deep, is a nominee for the 2024 Minnesota Book Award in poetry. The winner will be announced May 7. This is Westerman’s second poetry book. Her first: Follow the Blackbirds. In addition to writing poetry and creating quilts, Westerman teaches English, Humanities and Creative Writing at Minnesota State University, Mankato.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

House of Kahmanns: A story of trauma, family love & resilience May 1, 2024

IT WAS A TUESDAY in January 1964. Wash day in the Kahmann household. Outside, a ground blizzard raged, reducing visibility on the southwestern Minnesota prairie. The events of that morning, of that day, would forever change the lives of siblings Karl, Patsy, Eric, Andy, John, Paul, Kevin, Katy, Karen, Phillip, Jim and Beth, and their parents, Jack and Della.

That sets the scene for House of Kahmanns, a memoir by P.G. (Patsy) Kahmann, oldest daughter, second oldest among 12 children. Sixteen months earlier, the family moved from Kansas City, Missouri, to Minnesota when Jack, a traveling salesman in a farm business, was relocated. They settled near their maternal grandparents, into a rental home by Granite Falls.

I expect Jack Kahmann was driving in weather and road conditions similar to this. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo, January 2020, used for illustration only)

This is familiar land to me in a familiar time. I was not quite eight years old in January 1964, living on a farm some 30 minutes away in neighboring Redwood County. I understand full well the fierce prairie wind that whips snow into white-out conditions. On that blustery morning, as Jack and Della and Della’s parents set out for medical and business appointments in Minneapolis, leaving the oldest, Karl, to care for the youngest children, Patsy and her school-age siblings boarded the school bus.

Rosary beads. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo used for illustration only)

Patsy was in English class when she got the devastating news. There had been a crash. A bread truck driven by an unlicensed 14-year-old ran a stop sign and then a yield sign before slamming into the 1957 Chevy driven by Jack. Della, mother of a dozen, was the most seriously injured. “How many Hail Marys will it take to save my mother’s life?” Patsy asks herself.

An altar in a southern Minnesota Catholic church. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo used for illustration only)

Faith, a strong Catholic faith, threads through this story. The Kahmanns were devout, prayerful, always in church. The church, or rather the local parish priest, would play the primary role in turning the initial tragedy into even more intense pain, suffering, separation and trauma for the family. Father Buckley demanded that the 12 children be placed with Catholic families while their parents recovered at a hospital 70 miles away. That, even though a Lutheran couple offered to move into the Kahmanns’ farm home and care for the children. Together.

At this point in the book, I felt my anger flashing. Anger over the inhumanity of a man of the cloth who is supposed to exude compassion, care and love. More atrocities by the priest followed. By the time I read the epilogue, I was irate, forgiveness far from my mind.

Love and forgiveness were taught in the Kahmann home. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo used for illustration only)

But the Kahmanns were a loving and forgiving family. (Not necessarily of that priest.) One evening after they are all reunited, Jack asks his family to pray blessings upon the driver of the bread truck. Three-year-old Phillip mishears. “God bless the red truck!” he shouts. Laughter erupts. I needed that humor in a story weighing heavy upon my soul.

I wanted to step into the pages of the book and hug those kids and make everything better. Just as Millie Bea did when the Kahmanns lived in Kansas City and Jack was traveling around the country and Della needed extra help with the kids. The book flips back and forth in time and place between Missouri and Minnesota, before and after the crash.

The Kahmanns were not unfamiliar with trauma. In June 1955, Andy’s hand was nearly severed in a hand cement mixer. A Kansas City surgeon successfully reattached his limb, even though a priest told Jack that his son’s hand had been amputated. That was untrue.

Family love is such a strong theme in this book. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo used for illustration only)

Through all of this, themes of love, strength and resilience thread. The Kahmann siblings clearly looked out for and loved one another and got through some pretty awful stuff. Their motto, Patsy writes, was “No one died. We all survived.” They never talked about the accident. I’m not surprised. Who did back then? Eventually the family would relocate to Bird Island, 32 miles directly east of Granite Falls. It was a new start in a new place following their 75 days apart, “75 days of confusion, anxiety and foreboding.”

And now, with publication of House of Kahmanns—A Memoir, A story about family love and shattered bonds, about finding each other in the aftermath, perhaps these siblings are talking about all they endured. For Patsy, it is also about keeping a promise. In the book dedication she writes: To Mom and Dad/I promised you I would write this story. And she did, with honesty, pain and a great deal of strength.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

-30- April 30, 2024

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

THE LOSS IS IMMENSE, TRAGIC—the deaths of eight prominent community members in southern Minnesota last week. I knew none of them personally. Yet I did. We all did.

If you have ever read a community newspaper, then you knew the deceased. For it is eight Minnesota newspapers, not individuals, that died. Ceased publication, only weeks after an announcement of their forthcoming funerals.

Death notices and church services, printed in The Gaylord Hub.

I am mourning the deaths of the Hutchinson Leader, Litchfield Independent Review, Chaska Herald, Chanhassen Villager, Jordan Independent, Shakopee Valley News, Prior Lake American and Savage Pacer, plus Crow River Press Printing Plant. All are owned by Denver-based MediaNews Group, part of hedge fund Alden Global Capital.

They ranged in age from 30 (Savage Pacer) to 162 (the Chaska and Shakopee papers). Five of the eight began publication between 1862-1880. That’s quite a legacy.

I am undeniably biased in reporting this news. I hold a journalism degree, have worked for community newspapers and write for publications owned by Adams Publishing Group. I believe in community journalism with the fierceness of recognizing its importance, its value, to the people who live and work in the places these papers cover. No one covers local like local.

My local paper, owned by Adams Publishing Group, still prints a special graduation section each spring.

And now that print coverage is lost in all these southern Minnesota towns, cities and rural areas: The watchdog coverage of school board, city council, county board, planning and zoning, and other government bodies. The stories about crime and tragedies. The stories about community events and celebrations. The interesting features that focus on people. Local sports and arts and entertainment stories. Community calendars, school honor rolls and lunch menus. Graduation. Obituaries and much more.

In my first journalism class at Minnesota State University, Mankato, I learned how to craft an obituary. It was our initial writing assignment, I think to impress upon all of us post-Watergate would-be reporters the importance of getting every detail correct in a story. That lesson stuck with me. Get it right.

I took that knowledge with me to The Gaylord Hub, a small town community newspaper printed at Crow River Press in Hutchinson. Each week a co-worker and I aimed north in a vintage Dodge van to deliver the newspaper lay-out sheets to the printing plant. The process of creating a newspaper in 1978 was decidedly different than today. Consider that I typed all my stories on a manual typewriter. A typesetter then typed my work into a typesetting machine. Stories were printed out in columns, then laid out and pasted onto lay-out sheets. No designing by computer. Then it was off to Crow River Press, where a co-worker and I watched the Hub roll off the press, bagged the freshly-inked papers and delivered them to the Gaylord Post Office, where subscribers eagerly waited to get their papers.

A front page story in the April 11 issue of The Gaylord Hub.

Yes, I’m feeling a tad nostalgic and sad thinking of the closure of Crow River Press. The recent shut-down left the publisher of The Gaylord Hub, and other small town newspaper owners, scrambling for a place to print their papers. Many printing plants, like community papers, have met their demise in Minnesota as large media groups acquired papers and plants.

This thank you published in the April 21 final edition of The Galaxy, a supplement to eight community newspapers printed by Crow River Press.

Times change. I understand that. The economy, technology, COVID, acquisitions and much more have factored into the deaths of community newspapers. Readers find their “news” elsewhere. Businesses spend their advertising dollars elsewhere. Far-removed executives make questionable business decisions. The list of reasons and excuses and explanations is extensive.

Community members, too, hold some responsibility in the deaths of newspapers. I can’t speak to the specific papers that closed last week in Minnesota, but I can tell you what I hear locally. And that is criticism, some deserved, much not. People have always criticized the media, failing to remember that reporters are reporting, not creating, the news. But the comments have become more intense, more rabid, more frequent. Freedom of the press feels threatened in our democracy.

The community journalists I know are honest, hardworking, (probably) underpaid and devoted to the craft. Just as I was when I worked as a full-time newspaper reporter.

This full page notice/thank you, an obituary of sorts, published in the April 21 final edition of The Galaxy.

Community newspapers are no longer valued like they once were, resulting in fewer subscribers. When I hear people say they no longer subscribe to the local paper, I suggest they reconsider. Community newspapers are vital to our cities, towns and rural areas. And sometimes we don’t understand that, until it’s too late, until we’re reading their obituaries.

-30-

NOTE: Print journalists have used -30- to signify the end of a story submitted for editing. I use # to indicate the ends of my stories, except today, when the old school -30- seems more appropriate.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

They’re selling what? April 26, 2024

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(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I HAVE SHOPPED many local flea markets and countless garage sales. And I’ve seen a lot of quirky, odd, unusual, unique, weird merchandise. Like doll heads in a colander.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Assorted tools that appeared more art than tool collection.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

A doll in a coffin.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Buttons galore.

A typo, “kids” instead of “kinds,” had me laughing aloud. (From the Faribault Daily News Community Calendar)

And then there is this: Sellers of all kids will be at the annual “anything goes garage sale and flea market.” Now that’s different, I thought in decidedly Minnesota terms.

Clearly, kids will not be sold at the flea market from 10 am – 4 pm this Saturday, April 27, at the Faribo West Mall in Faribault. But the typo in the community calendar listings in the Faribault Daily News made me laugh. And, goodness, how we can all use a bit of laughter in our lives.

Happy shopping at the anything goes, sans kids, garage sale and flea market.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

You know you live in rural Minnesota when… April 25, 2024

A tractor pulling a manure spreader fuels up at the local co-op. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

LIVING IN FARIBAULT, a city of some 24,000 surrounded by farm fields, I sometimes see ag machinery pass through town. I live along an arterial route. Tractors pulling implements or solo tractors and combines occasionally roar by my house, especially during spring planting and fall harvest.

But the sighting of a tractor with attached manure spreader spotted several blocks from my house at the local Faribault Community Co-op Oil Association on a recent afternoon proved a first. I’d never seen a manure spreader, marketed as a box spreader, within city limits. But there the New Holland brand spreader sat, linked to a Case International tractor. Right there aside the co-op fuel pumps along Division Street in the heart of downtown.

Leaving the co-op. The historic Alexander Faribault house can be seen on the other side of the hedge. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

My mind asked, “Why? Why wouldn’t you unhook a manure spreader before driving a tractor into town to fuel up?” I’ll never know.

Whatever, the scene drew my eyes and reminded me of the importance of agriculture in this region. Although farming has changed from mostly small family farms with livestock to much larger acreages minus the animals, the importance of agriculture to the local economy remains. All I need do is drive into the country to observe farmers busy in the fields, planting corn and soybeans.

Back in the 1860s and 1870s, wheat was the primary crop in this area. Flour mills populated the region. None remain here today.

But what remains are memories and history, including the Alexander Faribault house, which sits next to the co-op, on the other side of a hedge row. The house, built in 1853 and thought to be the oldest woodframe house in southern Minnesota, served as a fur trading post for the town founder. He also farmed, on land that is today within the city limits, and sheltered Indigenous Peoples on his farm.

After waiting at the Division Street/Minnesota State Highway 60 stoplight, the tractor continued east across the historic viaduct, presumably heading back to the farm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Community Co-op has been in Faribault since 1925, closing in on 100 years in business. That’s remarkable really. Good customer service and loyalty withstand the tests of time. And no one seems to mind a tractor with attached honey wagon pulling up to the pumps on a Sunday afternoon in April.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Nature makes us kin as spring emerges in Minnesota April 24, 2024

Green is slowly tipping trees, coloring the ground as we bridge into spring. This hillside scene was photographed in Falls Creek County Park, rural Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

THIS TIME OF YEAR in Minnesota—this early spring—everything appears more vibrant. At least to my winter weary eyes. My eyes, which have viewed mostly muted shades of brown and gray for too many months, can’t get enough of this landscape edging with color.

Bold blue skies blanket River Bend’s prairie, which will soon be lush with new growth. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Intense green in buds and lush lawns, thriving with recent rains and then sunshine and warming day-time temps, layer the landscape. Sometimes the sky is such a bold blue that my eyes ache with the beauty of it all. Green against blue, the natural world a poem, a painting, a creative story.

Buds emerge against the backdrop of the creek at Falls Creek County Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Like most Minnesotans, I find myself emerging, getting outdoors more, immersing myself in nature. Not that I don’t spend time outside in winter. But now, in late April, I’m out more often.

The Straight River twists through River Bend Nature Center, winding through Faribault to connect with the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Parks and trails and the local nature center draw me into woods, along prairie, aside replenished wetlands and ponds, by rivers and creeks. Even a walk through a neighborhood to observe tulips flashing vivid red and yellow pleases me. There’s so much to take in, to delight in as this season unfolds.

Inspirational signs are scattered throughout River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

“One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,” reads a quote from William Shakespeare printed on a memorial plaque placed on a bench at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault. I’m no Shakespearean scholar, but I interpret that to mean nature connects us.

Turtles galore lined logs at River Bend’s Turtle Pond on a recent sunny afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

That happened recently at the Turtle Pond. I paused to photograph three turtles lining a log, still as statues in the afternoon sunshine. Then a passing friend noticed and asked what I saw. And then he pulled out his cellphone to photograph. And then the photographer who was shooting senior photos on the boardwalk bridge over the pond, noticed the turtles, too. We were, in that moment, kin in nature, touched by the countless turtles perched on logs in the water.

This bridge spans a creek in Falls Creek County Park, leading to hiking trails in the woods on one end and an open grassy area on the other. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Nature also connected me with others at Falls Creek County Park, rural Faribault. A family picnicking by the park shelter prompted memories of long ago picnics there with my growing family. I walked over to tell the young parents how happy I was to see them outdoors, grilling, enjoying the beautiful spring day with Ezra in his Spider-Man costume and Millie in her stroller. Nature makes us kin.

Wildflowers are blooming, including these at Falls Creek County Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

People simply seem nicer, kinder, more open to conversation when they’re outdoors. It’s as if the wind whispers only good words into our thoughts. It’s as if clouds disperse to reveal only sunny skies. It’s as if sounds are only those of silence or of birds, not of anger and hostility. Nature calms with her voice, her presence.

Water mesmerizes as it flows over stones in a clear-running creek at Falls Creek County Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

I love to stand aside a burbling creek, to hear water rushing over rocks. In that moment, I hear only the soothing, steady rhythm of music and none of the noise of life. Peace, sweet peace, consumes me.

Trails at Falls Creek County Park are packed dirt, narrow, rugged, uneven and sometimes blocked by fallen trees. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

The same goes for walking within nature. Trees embrace me. Wildflowers show me beauty. Dirt beneath my soles connects me to the earth, filling my soul.

On a recent afternoon at River Bend, geese searched the prairie for food. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

And then there are the creatures. The Canadian geese wandering the prairie, searching for food, their long necks bending, pilfering the dried grass while I dodge the droppings they’ve left along the pathway. They are fearless, a lesson for me in standing strong.

Deer at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Deer gather, then high-tail away when they grow weary of me watching them. They’ve had enough, even if I haven’t.

A nesting mallard hen and drake, nearly camouflaged on a wetland pond at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

And at the pond, mallards nest. Unmoving. Determined. Heads folded into feathers. Settled there among dried stalks, water bold blue, reflecting the sky. Spring peepers sing a symphony of spring. It is a scene, a performance that holds me.

Rustic signage, which I love, marks landmarks and trails inside River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Shakespeare was right. “One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.”

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

“Poem in a Bag” celebrates the arts, connects cultures April 23, 2024

Pick a poem from a box at Mercado Local (and other locations) as part of a poetry initiative rooted in Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

PRINTED POETRY PLACED in public pleases me. Pleases me because putting poetry out there places this literary art into hands that might not otherwise pick poetry. I mean, if we’re honest, how often do we purchase a poetry book or pull a poetry volume from the 811. section of the library? Probably not all that often.

Among colorful merchandise sold by immigrant vendors at Mercado Local in Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

That is why I love the latest poetry project in my area—“Poem in a Bag.” Rice County Neighbors United, an advocacy group for low income and immigrant community members, recently launched this project in Northfield, a city rich in the arts, including poetry. Mar Valdecantos, RCNU advocate director and also a poet, writer, visual artist and art teacher, is leading this endeavor.

Grab a poetry scroll from the box. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

The concept is simple. Collect, translate, print and place poems inside a box (not a bag) in locations accessible to the public. The poetry, both original and favorites, is paired with local original art, including that of Valdecantos. Anyone can grab a poetry scroll and have instant access to literary and visual art.

Northfield is home to a sizeable Hispanic population. Immigrant vendors sell their art and more at Mercado Local. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

But there’s more. The poems are printed in Spanish and in English. I can’t read Spanish. (My second daughter can; she’s a former Spanish medical interpreter and translator.) That doesn’t matter. What matters is that each poem is printed in two languages, reflecting, respecting and celebrating cultural diversity in our region of southern Minnesota.

The merchandise inside Mercado Local, including this woven tote, is a colorful, visual delight. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Rice County Neighbors United aims to raise cultural awareness via events and activities like “Poem in a Bag,” funded by a grant from the Minnesota Arts & Cultural Heritage Fund. The arts have always been a way to connect peoples, to communicate, to inspire and more. Whatever our differences, art is universal, linking us in our humanity.

A portion of the poem, “Streetlight at Night,” and art by Mar Valdecantos. All poems are printed in Spanish and in English. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Poems submitted for this National Poetry Month project cover a range of topics, some specific, others broader. Sunrise, empanadas, children, cancer, loneliness, life, winter, salmon, even a dead mouse, are among the subjects of original poems. I’ve lent several poems for the project.

More cultural offerings at Mercado Local. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

And then there is the poetry of renowned poets—Latin American, Cuban, American—selected and submitted as favorite poems. Nature, the mother-child relationship, a white rose and service to others theme these. They, too, are accompanied by art.

Mercado Local is located in the heart of downtown Northfield, just off Division Street. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Art in all its forms is powerful. Rice County Neighbors United recognizes that, celebrating creativity and entrepreneurship at Mercado Local, a marketplace for immigrant vendors and also an art center, community room and education space located at 108 5th Street East in Northfield.

Mercado Local explodes with color. The “Poem in a Bag” box is on the cashier’s counter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

“Poem in a Bag” poems are available at Mercado Local and at other Northfield businesses (currently Content Bookstore, Imminent Brewery and radio station KYMN) and at the Northfield Public Library. Valdecantos aims to get poetry boxes into more Northfield businesses. In Faribault, “Poem in a Bag” can be found at Books on Central, a used bookshop run by the Rice County Area United Way.

This is an ambitious undertaking, one Valdecantos hopes to repeat next April during National Poetry Month. She intends to extend this year’s “Poem in a Bag” into May with a poetry reading set for 6:30-8 pm Thursday, May 23, in the community room/art space at Mercado Local. I appreciate all of this. To place poetry in public places, to use art to connect cultures, is truly a welcoming, neighborly gift to our culturally diverse communities.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Looking west in a new poetry collection by five Northfield poets April 18, 2024

Just-published, a 116-page anthology featuring the poetry of five Northfield, Minnesota, poets. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

ON AN APRIL AFTERNOON when gray skies reverberated thunder and unleashed sheets of rain upon parched southern Minnesota, I read their words, table-side lamp pooling light onto pages. It felt right, to cozy under a fleece throw, to immerse myself in the poetry of Becky Boling, Heather Candels, D.E. Green, Steve McCown and Julie A. Ryan on a day meant for sheltering indoors.

Outside the Northfield Public Library during a 2019 celebration of Hispanic Heritage Month. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2019)

Their collective poetry, printed in the recently-released anthology, We Look West, is decidedly reflective, introspective and individually unique. Unique in voice and style for this group of writers tagged as Poets of the Northfield, Minnesota, Public Library. This book is part of the Up on Big Rock Poetry Series published by Winona-based Shipwreckt Books Publishing Company. It showcases the work of not only seasoned writers, but also poets seasoned in life. This is a relatable read, especially for Baby Boomers like me.

Antiques on 4th in Cannon Falls. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2021)

Youthful memories of grandmothers, homemade ice cream, small towns as they once were and much more flow through the pages. At times I feel as if I’m reading about “the dusty excess of nostalgia” of my life, as Steve McCown writes “In an Antique Store.” His mention of a Tom Thumb toy cash register sends me back to a long ago Christmas. His poems are sparse, yet fully-descriptive in the way of language carefully-culled by a man who taught high school and college English.

An Elvis impersonator performs during Bean Hole Days in Pequot Lakes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2021)

Likewise, Julie A. Ryan, has me reminiscing with “Candy Cigarettes,” the chalky white sticks of fake cigarettes that I, too, “smoked” in the 1960s. Ryan paints with her words, revealing the visual artist side of her creativity. She mentions Van Gogh and painting and also leans into music within her poetry. Especially powerful is her poem, “’68 Comeback Special,” in which she shares about a near-death experience, of almost meeting Elvis. Her final poem, “We Look West,” titles the book, summarizing well the transition of life from sunrise/birth to sunset/death. That themes the anthology, the movement of life from east to west.

Performing at The Contented Cow in downtown Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2020)

In her poetry, Becky Boling moves readers through life from playground monkey bars to motherhood to contemplating old age. I am particularly drawn to “Violin Lesson,” in which Boling observes her young son learning to play the violin. From a deep cushioned armchair, she is caught up in the artistry, the beauty, the movement as am I through her observational writing. And then she closes with the emotional thought of not wanting the moment to end, of understanding that some day she will let her son go. As the mother of three, I feel her sadness at the lesson completed. I expect in her 36 years of teaching Spanish and Liberal Arts at Carleton College in Northfield, Boling has observed the movement of young people whose parents let them go to learn and grow their independence.

A southwestern Minnesota prairie sunset between Redwood Falls and Morgan. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

D.E. Green, who taught English for 33 years at Augsburg University, has likely seen the same. His poems reflect life and love. Particularly endearing is his poem, “For Becky: Love Sonnet after Neruda,” written for Boling, to whom he’s married. (They also share the position of interim co-poet laureates in Northfield.) His appreciation for and study of Shakespeare show in this love poem, as touching as any love poem I’ve read. “I love you unthinkingly/like a deep breath, a careless yawn, a sigh,” he writes. Beautiful. Green also reflects on his life lived “good enough” and on life during retirement. His poetry should be required reading for anyone closer to west than to east.

My mom lived in a care center, confined to a wheelchair in the end years of her life. I took this photo of her hands about a year before her January 2022 death. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2020)

Heather Candels, too, reflects on her passing life in a poem aptly titled “Passing.” But it is “Situation Comedy,” a poem about a 104-year-old woman living in a care center, which elicits an especially emotional reaction from me. I can picture the centenarian shoving her walker (as my octogenarian mom did) to the dining room, then sitting with Grace and Lloyd, whom she secretly calls Grease and Lard. “Something has to be funny about all this,” Candels writes. The former English teacher is a gifted storyteller who brings unexpected emotional lines to her writing.

In “A Sign,” Heather Candels writes about racial injustice via white lilies of the valley and “their colonies spreading underground/roots nurtured by the rich dark soil…” This poem alone is reason enough to buy this anthology. Photo taken in Madison, Wisconsin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2020)

And then there are the poems that touch on tough topics, on social issues, on disparities. Climate change. Evidence in the Nuremberg Trials. Racial injustice. Poetry doesn’t right life. But it opens our minds, causes us to think, reflect, perhaps take positive action as we move from east to west.

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FYI: The five Minnesota poets included in We Look West will launch their anthology during a reading and book signing at 7 pm on Thursday, May 16, at the Northfield Public Library. I encourage you to attend if you live in the area. If not, I suggest you buy a copy of this 116-page anthology through an independent bookseller. These poets are gifted writers, this collection a must-read whether you’re a Baby Boomer or not.

 

Celebrating poetry in southern Minnesota during National Poetry Month April 17, 2024

Sidewalk poetry in downtown Northfield, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2014)

Mention poetry and many people likely stop listening. In a way, I understand. To their ears, they hear the stuffy, rhyming, difficult poems of yesteryear. The poems that made no sense to many of us. The poems that had to be read as part of a high school English class.

A close-up of lines in the poem steps along the River Walk in downtown Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)

While I’m not privy to how poetry is taught today, I do recognize that it’s, overall, much more approachable, at least in Minnesota. We are home to a talented array of poets with their writing published not only in anthologies and literary journals, but also presented in widely-accessible, public ways.

A poem by Patrick Ganey is stamped into the sidewalk near the Northfield Public Library: still winter thaw/tall pines bend, grey sky drops rain/even at midday/a train whistle sounds lonely (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Nearby Northfield, for example, prints poetry into sidewalks. In 2011, the Arts and Culture Commission launched Sidewalk Poetry. Through that annual competition, selected poems are stamped into sidewalks in the historic downtown, along routes to schools and in residential neighborhoods. I always enjoy walking in downtown Northfield and pausing to read poetry. As a poet myself, I appreciate how much this community values this literary art.

This month, National Poetry Month, and into May, Northfield-based nonprofit Rice County Neighbors United is offering “Poem in a Bag.” Submitted original and favorite poems were printed, rolled and placed in poetry boxes (not bags) set out at select Northfield businesses and at the Northfield Public Library. Poems are printed in both English and Spanish and paired with original art by local artists. What a fun idea, to give away poems, perhaps reaching people who would not otherwise read poetry. I’ve submitted several poems for this project.

My poem, “Lilacs,” inspired “Lilacs on a Table,” an oil on linen painting by Jeanne Licari. This was part of an poet-artist collaborative exhibit at Crossings at Carnegie in Zumbrota ten years ago. Today my poem is part of Northfield’s “Poem in a Bag.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2014)

For the first time this year, FiftyNorth, Northfield’s center for active aging, is featuring a poet-artist collaboration, “Echoes & Shadows,” in its gallery. The event runs until May 3. Artists created art inspired by original poems. I’ve participated in collabs like this in Zumbrota and found them to be particularly interesting—to see how poems are visually interpreted.

A portion of a poem by Rob Hardy, former Northfield Poet laureate, in the Northfield Library atrium. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

At the Northfield Public Library, Open Mic Poetry is held monthly in the atrium for poets to share their writing with an appreciative audience. The next event is at 6:30 pm Wednesday, May 8.

Poem steps in Northfield along the River Walk. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)

Northfield also has a poet laureate actively promoting poetry and poetry events within the community. A new laureate will soon be named to replace past laureate Rob Hardy and current interim co-poet laureates Becky Boling and D.E. Green.

This new anthology features the poetry of five Northfield poets. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Next month the Northfield library hosts two poetry readings. Local poets Scott Lowery and Leslie Schultz will read at 6:30 pm Tuesday, May 7. And at 7 pm on Thursday, May 16, the Poets of the Northfield, Minnesota, Public Library, will read from and sign We Look West. The just-published 116-page anthology is part of the Up On Big Rock Poetry Series from Winona-based Shipwreckt Books Publishing Company.

This sidewalk poem in Mankato’s Riverfront Park references the mass hanging of 38 Dakota (plus two) in December 1862 in Mankato. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2023)

I also have two other recently-released poetry books to read: Broad Wings, Long Legs, A Rookery of Heron Poems in which Minnesota writers (including Larry Gavin of Faribault and many other recognizable poets) contemplate a regional icon, and Songs, Blood Deep by Poet Laureate of Minnesota, Gwen Nell Westerman of Mankato. Westerman is Minnesota’s first Native poet laureate and teaches English, humanities and creative writing at Minnesota State University, Mankato, my alma mater.

My poem, posted along the West Mankato Trail. (Minnesota Prairie Roots edited & copyrighted photo November 2023)

Mankato is a community rich in poetry. I’ve found poems stamped into concrete at Riverfront Park as part of WordWalk. But it’s a project of the Southern MN Poets Society which really puts poetry out in the community. Through the Mankato Poetry Walk & Ride, winning poems are printed on signs and posted along walking and biking trails in Mankato and North Mankato. My poems have been included perhaps half a dozen times—I’ve lost count—with one, “The Mighty Tatanka,” a poem about bison, currently displayed along a trail in West Mankato.

A sampling of poetry books, right, for sale at Books on Central in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

Poetry is seemingly everywhere these days, unconfined to the space between book covers. Yet poems printed upon paper remain the primary place to find poetry. I recently picked up a stash of poetry books from my local library. I also perused poetry offerings at Books on Central, a Rice County Area United Way bookshop selling used books in downtown Faribault. In Northfield, independent bookseller Content Bookstore not only sells poetry books, but regularly hosts book signing events with writers, including poets.

An especially thought-provoking poem in Northfield’s Sidewalk Poetry project. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2020)

How we access poetry has certainly changed over the years. It is my hope that, even if you think you don’t like poetry, you open your mind to this creative art form. There’s much to be learned about nature, about ourselves, about life through the carefully-selected, sparse words of gifted poets, many of whom call Minnesota home.

FYI: Please check back for a more in-depth look at “Poem in a Bag” and reviews of poetry anthologies referenced in this post. Now, tell me, do you read poetry, have a favorite poem?

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The birdsong of spring in Minnesota April 16, 2024

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
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In April 2018, this robin huddled in the snow. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)

THIS TIME OF YEAR, birds sound louder, their voices amplified. Birds are marking territories, seeking mates. Or perhaps they are announcing their return to Minnesota or their survival of winter, even the mild one of 2023-2024.

A cardinal. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2019)

Cardinals trill. Red-winged blackbirds and robins sing in their distinguishable voices, which I can’t quite describe. But I know them when I hear them.

Red-winged blackbird among dried cattails in a pond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2017)

When I step out my backdoor to hang laundry on the clothesline, I hear the morning birdsong, even above the drone of traffic along my busy street. When I walk at the local nature center, I hear birdsong rising from the woods, the marshes, the prairie. To hear birds singing is to hear the refrain of spring.

From the pages of a children’s picture book… Birds announce spring’s arrival in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2019)

It’s lovely and uplifting and hopeful. And in many ways remarkable. Here are these small feathered creatures singing spring songs that captivate us with their boldness, their melody.

Soon the grass will be lush and long, like a carpet for robins and other birds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Each spring, without fail, I find myself listening intently to birdsong as if the song is a new release. In a way, it is. A release from winter’s grip. A release to days that are warmer and greener and teeming with life. Those are the signs, the hopes, of spring in Minnesota.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling